


like real people do

by thiscouldbeheartbreak



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Minor Character Death, Power Ranger AU, that girl Haneul is OC btw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 12:49:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11357853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thiscouldbeheartbreak/pseuds/thiscouldbeheartbreak
Summary: fasting come after feasting. or Choi Seungcheol witnesses the death of the Pink Ranger and encounters mysterious, yet chaotic Hong Jisoo.(Power Rangers AU)





	like real people do

**Author's Note:**

> — title was from hozier’s like real people do. been listening to it while writing and my motivation suddenly was like wow :x  
> — this story was based on the two series mighty morphin and dino thunder power rangers, which are my favourite in the power rangers universe. a bit rushed, you’ve been warned.  
> — warning: the pink ranger is a female original character. ivorro is the name of the enemy’s foot soldiers. also lack of zord battles and fighting scenes.)  
> — i used to post this story under the username stjerneklart but have already deleted. now i have a feeling to write it again, so...

 

_“Seungcheol?”_

 

_It was her._

_Seungcheol’s vision was quite blurred, but it was definitely her._

_He did not know where he was, but he kept walking. He stumbled over a stone, but he kept walking. The voice came from nowhere, lingering among the hazy woods, like an invisible fire waiting for him to plunge into, as if he was a desperate moth. Or maybe it was just his own delusion, being paranoid about hearing the voice of the dead._

_It was her voice. Haneul. The Pink Ranger. His teammate. Who was supposed to be dead already._

_Something clenched inside him. Guilt was silently flowing in his veins. When was the last time he could see Haneul without that? He was culpable, he deserved to be blamed, especially by her. Junhui could sigh at that and sit down to assuage him, patting Seungcheol’s shoulder and pointing out that it was not his fault and all, but deep inside Seungcheol, he knew. He knew the truth that Junhui whether had not noticed, or he was aware of but tried to deceive him into believing otherwise instead._

_The truth that, he actually killed Haneul._

_He was too stupid, too hasty. He should have followed his teammates, he should not have believed in his sixth sense. Those wails did not belong to the stuck hostages, whom were all safe and sound outside the ablaze manor; they were from those fucking monsters, faking in order to lull him into the house and kill him with the arson. They knew Seungcheol would come back to save whoever was still stuck in the house, despite the fire and the risk, and they were fucking right. Or Seungcheol was too foolish to realize the trap, and he had done it. Really running into the house without considering, with Soonyoung shouting in the background what the fuck are you doing?, and one thing that he never thought of—with Haneul following him in panic. She was so ethereal that Seungcheol did not hear a sound or spot her either. It was not until he was in the house, scrambling among the fire, roaming the whole fiery room did he realize Haneul was with him too, and it was too late._

_There was no one. It was a fucking hoax. And before he could do anything, a pink gloved hand squeezed his elbow. It was damn hard to breathe, even his eyes behind the mask were so sore from the fire that he could not see anything clearly, but he recognized the glove. He knew who owned that glove. But Seungcheol never had a chance to ask Haneul why she followed him anymore; because a second later, she roughly pushed him outside the door, making him trip over the steps, and as Seungcheol hit the ground so hard it made his back sore for weeks, the manor exploded._

_No. The story could not happen like this. It should have been like this—they returned to the base, none the worse for wear, Haneul was safe and sound and helped Jeonghan to upgrade their robots, not ended up getting stuck in the house and died because of Seungcheol; it could not end with Seungcheol being held tightly in Mingyu’s arm, being prevented from crawling into the house once again to save Haneul, even at that point she was probably burnt out alive already._

_It was impossible. The Pink Ranger could not die. She was a core member of the team, the only one that could calm the boys down, the inventor of too many equipments they used, the power that they could not unify without. And then she was there, in the house, among the flames licking her like vampires enjoying their supper, and it was Seungcheol’s fault, all of this, for killing her, which she did not deserve for all the things that she had given up to. And there was no turning back—_

 

 

“Seungcheol?”

 

His daydream was cutting off by a quiet voice.

It took Seungcheol minutes to realize that he was sitting in the library, with his forehead brushed against his knuckles slightly, elbows were resting on the cold surface of the table. The dim sunlight makes its way through the thick curtains, lying on his head lazily. Next to him, Junhui was standing with his back against the wall, observing Seungcheol carefully, like he was afraid that Seungcheol would stand up and run off the base at any second passing by.

To be honest, that pissed Seungcheol off. After Haneul had passed away, Junhui kept treating him as if he was a precious, yet fragile jewel in a museum. He knew the boy was cautious, but seriously, he was _Seungcheol_. He had been living with him for, like, almost eight years. Wasn’t it long enough to wear off any awkwardness between them? It just made Seungcheol more stifled. More guilty. Like Junhui had realized that Seungcheol was blameworthy, but instead of facing him and saying that out loud, he chose to walk around him, staying silent. It did not help; it just poured more oil on the flames, the flames that ate Seungcheol alive, drowning him in a vast ocean of regret.

“Is anything wrong?” Seungcheol asked as he closed his eyes again, trying to avoid Junhui as best as he could. Right then, nothing could make him feel worse but looking directly at the other’s eyes. It would make him feel exposed. And that was not what he wanted.

“The Ivorros.” Junhui replied shortly. “They are gathering in the square. Jeonghan has just tracked them out five minutes ago, but he’s not sure about the purpose of this sudden attack.”

“Do Ivorros really need a reason to attack people?” Seungcheol groaned.

That was it—welcome to the so—called fabulous life of a Power Ranger. As soon as he joined the team, Seungcheol realized that all those TV Power Rangers series were just shits. It was them that made Seungcheol decide to be a Ranger, and ever since that day, he seemed to never have a proper rest day. What was being a Power Ranger all about? He used to think of cool costumes, modern gadgets, brilliant martial arts moves can defeat the Ivorros in seconds, fighting against the huge monster with zords that could unite as a giant robot, but apparently he was damn wrong. The mask was way too uncomfortable before Jeonghan tried to upgrade it (he only did because Mingyu had been a pain in the ass about the mask making him unable to breathe for days); they still could not practice martial arts while using the gadgets well enough; and the zords were only another pain in everyone’s ass besides Mingyu. Seungcheol had complained about them with Jeonghan so many times he even lost count (but he did remember what he had said to Jeonghan—“ _why the hell did you make robots, robots, Jeonghan—and then you gave them souls?_ ”). They were always in a distemper, whining that they were so hungry even when they were fighting against the monster.

Fuck. Robots complained about being hungry. Seungcheol was so fucked.

To his surprise, Junhui suddenly laughed a bit. “I guess not. But you gotta go with us. No more moping around anymore.” He cleared his throat, and finally Seungcheol sighed, opening his eyes in surrender, letting out a shaky breath as he saw Junhui’s emotionless face. “Seungcheol, please. I don’t want you to keep distance from us, as well as feeling guilty about Haneul anymore, yeah?” He bit his bottom lip, his shoulders dropped at once. “I know you are having a bad time, being under pressure and your own punishment and all, but remember, we are a family.” He tilted his head, in order to look at Seungcheol’s eyes. “And families are supposed to help each other to get through dark days.”

Seungcheol’s heart silently slumped at that, but he just shook his head. “I’m fine, Junhui. Really.”

“Like I’m gonna believe that.” Junhui said slowly, finally stopped leaning against the wall and stood up properly. He took a stepped forwards, reaching a hand out and patting Seungcheol’s shoulder. “C’on. Mingyu and Soonyoung are waiting for you. We have some Ivorros to wipe off the map.”

And honestly, all Seungcheol wanted to do then was crawling on the bed, sleeping the sorrow inside him away, shutting down the whole universe so that he did not have to give a fuck about it anymore. But he figured out that was kinda impossible, so he just got up, following Junhui out of the library. His head ached a little as he took steps through the doorway before closing the door behind his back and seeing Mingyu, Soonyoung and Jeonghan arguing. They were fighting over some gadget Jeonghan had just upgraded, but it ended as soon as they spotted Seungcheol standing at the threshold.

Which, again, pissed him off.

“What?” He grumbled. “Am I an Ivorro or something?”

“Um, no,” Mingyu stuttered. “but I thought you hate noise and crowds.”

Seungcheol snorted at that; but for their awkwardness right now, he could have surely bursted into laughter. “I remember never having said so.”

Then it was Soonyoung’s turn to snort. “Yesterday you almost punched me in the face because I turned the music too loud.”

“Because you turned _I Got A Boy_ on at _six fucking AM_ and I had been only sleeping for, like _two hours_ after staying up all night helping Jeonghan to follow the track of a new power—”

“But the song is good, and you are just an ass!”

“Said the one who always attack us instead of the Ivorros during the fight.”

“Ladies.” Jeonghan sighed, ignoring the others’ glares. “I gathered you guys for a reason, not fighting over a girl group’s song.”

Soonyoung pouted, but he pulled out his Morpher bracelet anyway. It was Jeonghan’s idea, upgrading their Morphers into bracelets instead of “that stupid gaudy mobile phones”, the color of which depended on their superpowers. Mingyu’s was blue, Junhui’s was green, Soonyoung’s was yellow, and red belonged to Seungcheol. And the pink bracelet, which used to be Haneul’s, was hidden away to avoid the Ivorros and the Monsters, as well as the news that she had gone.

They all tried to pretend not to be affected by her death, but it was otherwise. Seungcheol could tell the boys were just like him, could not let go of her apparition; there was always a ghostly image of Haneul lingering among them, in their talks, their behaviors. Like Soonyoung had reached out the arm wearing the bracelet, but then he silently brought his arm back, because there was no Haneul checking if the bracelet still worked on; or Mingyu struggling with his laser gun, sighing as he realized that Haneul was not here to help him anymore. The girl had been damn important to them, and now she was gone.

Because of Seungcheol.

He was glad he had morphed, or else his teary eyes would be fully exposed. And no, he could not let anyone see him being weak. He was the Red Ranger, the spirit of the team. He could not let them down like he had done with Haneul. But the cost of his stupid manner—Haneul’s life—was so high that it had lowered the whole team down to hell already.

He was so deep in thought that he had not noticed Jeonghan walking right next to him, giving him a gentle pat on the shoulder. Through the glass, he saw Jeonghan’s sympathetic expression, his lips twitching as if he was guessing what Seungcheol was thinking of behind the mask. “Is everything alright?” He asked. “Oh, don’t reply; I know you are not.”

“Whatever.” Seungcheol muttered as he watch Mingyu and Junhui claw Soonyoung’s costume, making him yell with a high pitched voice that he had to wince. “I’m just worried. We hadn’t been doing missions for a while, man. And now we have to fight without Haneul. I just… have a bad feeling about this time.”

“You have bad feelings all the time, Seungcheol.” Jeonghan pointed out. “And turned out you did just fine. You’re just nervous, dude. Don’t let anxiety control you.” He gave him one last look before turning to the others, shouting _alright guys, let’s work it out!_. He heard Mingyu crying back in excitement, figuring out that they were awaiting for this too—doing their job. They were meant to be like this. Living underground, staying unknown to people, fighting criminals to protect the citizens, and then returning to the base, continuing living underground. That was just a cycle of a Power Ranger. Seungcheol had never noticed it before, being too delusional due to stupid TV cartoons and all. They gave him a wrong direction, made him choosing wrong decisions, and the death of one of his teammates? TV series never included it either. He was just a clumsy amateur anyway.

Somehow, Seungcheol thought he and the boys were alike. They were all disillusioned kids—Junhui joined the Power Rangers Team because he had thought he could perform his outstanding martial arts, Mingyu did because of the Morphers, which was changed into bracelets by Jeonghan several months later, making him brood over for weeks; Soonyoung was the latest, because he was interested in the Zords, but again, their sour attitudes broke his fantasy, even then he still could not get along with them. And Seungcheol, he joined because he _used_ to think being a Power Ranger was damn cool. That was his dream since he was a little kid, too dumb to realize those TV cartoons were actually just bullshits.

The tranformation obviously did not take that long, with background music and talking shits and all, like Mingyu used to describe— _“before I realize that I am transforming, I have transformed already”_ —and fighting the Ivorros was fucking hard, since they were too many and the Team had only four Rangers, excluding Haneul. Technically, the Ivorros did not have brains, and they were controlled by an alien called Gordon, along with many Monsters, also known as his fellowship. And since they were like zombies one way or another, they did not think while attacking. Basically the Ivorros did anything just to defeat the Power Rangers. Clawing, kicking, slapping, unfair playing, _everything_. Scars from their attacks remained for months, even years. Like that one time Junhui had sacrificed himself to save Mingyu from an Ivorro’s sudden attack, and his back was smeared with red angry scars for two months, aching everytime he twisted his body. But still, he did not complain a word about that. And Mingyu, Mingyu just owed him for the rest of his life.

See, their lives were all that crawling onto each other, pushing others to move forwards, rushing even. Just humans, with burdens for being a Ranger putting on the shoulders, made them slump more. They were not that different.

Riding the Cycle, however, was a nice experience; it was like riding a motorbike through various terrains, like motorcrossing, and even Soonyoung had once confessed that he thought he was Rok Bagoros slaying all the roads (“but you just crashed into the Ivorros,” Mingyu pointed out with a smug grin. “Rok Bagoros doesn’t do that.”, and Soonyoung talked nothing to him for the rest of the day). They arrived at the square within five minutes, and the Ivorros were fucking _everywhere_ ; most of them were busy chasing people, the others were shooting at the fountain, making the water splash all over. And honestly, although Seungcheol had seen and fought with the Ivorros for his whole Ranger career, the creature’s visage still made him sick—black costume with the face being covered by a horrifying mask reminding him of the rabbit Frank in Donnie Darko, but it was way more disgusting than that, and those sharp nails could tear a man’s body apart easily, and everything. Every fucking thing about the creature was sickening, and he still felt nauseous whenever he saw the critter, despite having confronted it for so many times he lost count.

“So,” Mingyu was the first one to talk after they left the Cycle. “what’s the strategy?”

Soonyoung hissed. “Easy. We throw ourselves into them, and we get killed.”

“You guys are disgusting.” Junhui commented. “Seungcheol? Any idea?”

Seungcheol tried not to sigh. The Red Ranger could not sigh. Pessimism was not allowed during a fight. He had been trying to avoid all of his sorrows and Haneul as best as he could, but he ended up shrugging. “Soonyoung’s right. That’s our strategy of all time, isn’t it?”

Soonyoung hissed again, but his tone was sarcastically surprising. “Do you hear that? Choi Seungcheol, the Great Red Ranger has just agreed with me for the first time in forever!”

“Like I’m gonna.” Seungcheol licked his lips, an idea suddenly bloomed in his mind. “Okay, here’s the plan. Focusing on rescuing people first, we have to separate them from the Ivorros. Once we’ve done that, we can use the Quadruble Cannon to finish them. That’s the fastest way. And Mingyu,” he turned to Mingyu, who was taken back by the mention of his name. “no attacking on the Monster directly. We have to wipe off the Ivorros, saving the citizens first.”

Mingyu groaned. “Got it, damn.”

“Okay, lads, make it out then.” Seungcheol nodded, and who cared if he still had a bad feeling about this time or not. Maybe Jeonghan was right, he was fucking insecure all the time.

 

—

 

But yes. He should have noticed that bad feeling.

The battle went bad. Like, fucking bad. The good news: they had successfully separated the people from the Ivorros, taking them to a temporary haven, and they were all safe and sound. But the bad news: there were too many Ivorros. Four Rangers versus, like, hundreds of Ivorros. They even did not have enough time to unify their weapons into the Quadruble Cannon. And the plan B was implemented without being consulted: fighting on your fucking own.

“Guys?” Somewhere, Seungcheol heard Junhui shouting. “You good?”

“Kinda!” Seungcheol cried in respond as he bent an Ivorro’s hand, made the creature yelp angrily. He twisted its arm violently, shoving the Ivorro into the ground and kicked at its disgusting face. He saw Mingyu being attacked by three Ivorros at the same time, falling to the ground harmlessly, but he successfully kicked up and ended up shooting directly at the enemy’s chest, made them take a hard tumble. Soonyoung, however, was defenseless; he had to hold an Ivorro’s hands, trying to pull his chest away from its claws as far as possible, which made him totally vulnerable for the other Ivorros to attack, but Junhui saved him as he ran to Soonyoung and punched in an Ivorro’s face as the creature was trying to assault Soonyoung from behind.

The square soon became a chaos; there were shooting, yelling, falling, even swearing; vociferations filled the tensing atmosphere, and Seungcheol could not tell whether they were winning, or losing. There were too many Ivorros, but again, their hard effort was paid back, because they were still unharmed. A bit stretched, a bit bruised, a bit tired—but that was fine. No one was dragged down yet.

But the bad feeling just did not fade away.

He was dodging an Ivorro’s kick when he saw him. A boy, definitely a human, was hiding in the fountain spray ring nozzles, behind strings of water. From the distance, he could not see the boy’s face clearly, but he was bringing his legs close to his chest, hugging himself tightly as if he was protecting himself from the Ivorros. And Seungcheol was damn sure he did not know what the fuck was going on, but trying his best not to be so vulnerable.

He felt guilty, Seungcheol. He must have left the boy out when saving the citizens from the chaos of Ivorros. Reminding him of Haneul, _again_ —that ablaze house, and he had once thought that he had left out some hostages too. And for being stupid, for not being wise enough to realize the trap, he had killed Haneul. Some Ivorro grabbed his arm, and at once, he had thought it was Haneul’s gloved hand, the hand that had saved him, but ended up killing its owner. He jumped off the ground and kicked the Ivorro away from his side, eyes refusing to let go of the boy in the fountain. He heard Mingyu screaming, Junhui’s gun blasting, Soonyoung’s hissing sounds, it was so chaotic he could not hear out anything properly, and the only thing appeared obviously in his vision was only the boy—

All of a sudden, an Ivorro climbed into the fountain, walking among the water towards the boy. Okay, now Seungcheol should be horrified. Ignoring the Ivorros plunging into him—he kicked them off with a surprising strength—he ran as fast as he could to the fountain, nearly tripping over some Ivorro’s body laying motionlessly on the ground, but was able to balance himself, and he just kept running.

He could not let anyone down. Anymore. Haneul was the only, and the biggest mistake of his. And he would never, never—

He jumped into the fountain, the water reached over his legs, obstructing his way to the boy, but he managed to move, slowly or not; as the Ivorro bowed down, reached out a hand to grab the boy’s hair, made him yell in panic, he lost his last piece of sanity; he threw himself over the Ivorro, sending both of him and the creature into the water. Water flooded his mask, and there was a hand grabbing his neck, squeezing it so tight he could not breathe properly. Right, maybe water was not a good battlefield for Seungcheol to fight against the Ivorro—he tried to escape the creature’s grip, but its hands were so strong that he just moved slightly, completely stuck in the Ivorro’s grasp.

He had to open his mouth to breathe, but it did not help at all. It seemed that the other Ivorros had come into the fountain as well as he felt that someone was gripping his legs and pinning his wrist to the ground too, and he remained still in the water, trying desperately to break out the grips, but in vain; he felt bad for the boy, for watching the fucking _Red Ranger_ being defeated easily like this, for being captured by the Ivorros for sure. Even his gun was taken away. Maybe this was his graveyard anyway, he was not gonna survive. His vision became more blurred because of water and lack of breath, and he wondered what Junhui, Mingyu and Soonyoung were doing then. He would not blame them for not saving him, since they were having an army of Ivorros to take care of.

But between the tight grips and mouth opening to breathe, he asked himself at once what they had to do after losing both the Pink Ranger and the Red Ranger within a month.

He suddenly remembered Haneul. Was she like this when getting stuck in the manor? Could not breathe, could not find a way to escape, could only pray for the others to be all safe and uninjured, accepting the Death; but for Seungcheol, it was fine. If this was paying for what he had done to Haneul, he would never complain.

He was still worried about the boy anyway. He hoped Junhui and the others could save him before the Ivorros captured him; he was sure the boys were capable of that. He was damn sure. And the only thing that he regretted was not staying by his teammates’ side for the very last seconds of his life. But again, he did not want his brothers to see this. Him, being defeated so easily, dying slowly under the water.

Fuck, there was something clawing his back, and he saw red among the blue water—

His mask had gone, whether the Ivorros had taken it off of him to see his miserable face while dying, or he was so injured that he had turned back to normal—

Pain seized him hard, and he wondered why he was still alive under the water, probably because of his strength, but it just made him suffer from the pain more, twisting over and over again futilelessly under the tight squeeze of the Ivorros, the Death silently touched his flooded lungs—

Suddenly there was a sound of gun shotting that made the grip around his legs loosen, but he did not have enough strength to collect himself anymore; as his hands were finally let go, his back still screamed the pain all over his nerves, his vision went completely black.

 

—

 

Seungcheol woke up to the Afterlife brushing his vision roughly with bright flashlight.

His body ached all over, and his limbs were so sore he was sure it would hurt even moving a finger slightly. There was a cloth pressed on his forehead, a blanket covered his torso up to his neck, and he suddenly wondered whether this was reality, or he had actually died. Why the Afterlife was this painful? He had thought after having died, he would not feel a thing. Apparently he was wrong. Or he was still alive. Both ways sounded bad anyway.

The space was serene. Which made him both comfortable and uncomfortable. He got used with his noisy base, with Mingyu shouting and Junhui talking too loud and Soonyoung playing K—Pop at max volume and Jeonghan’s testing equipments sounds and all, but then it felt like there was no one in this world but he himself. If it worked out that way, then he was absolutely fine. He could lie on this— _bed?_ this soft surface was unfamiliar, but he would get used to it soon, he was good at getting used to things—for eternity, without even getting up. And he could be alone forever. Being alone would not hurt anyone, _kill_ anyone. That was the cost anyway. He deserved this.

“Are you feeling better?”

But there was a quiet voice somewhere, cutting off his fantasy. And then in Seungcheol’s still foggy vision, he saw a man leaning forward where he was lying, rubbing the cloth on his forehead gently. He looked young, maybe about the same age with Seungcheol. He was tall and slim, maybe the same height as him either? There were curves at the end of his lips, looking like he could smile all the time, and fuck he was _gorgeous_. Soft features, white skin, black hair falling over the forehead, he looked like that type of boys who would receive a lot of flowers and chocolates during Valentine, appearing in the top of students getting high marks in the final exam, being chosen as the one who would represent all the students to make a speech in the graduation ceremony. He looked… bright. The type of light that never shone in Seungcheol’s life.

And again, he had to ask himself again. Was this reality, or fantasy?

He opened his mouth to reply, but there were no words coming out. Maybe the grip of that fucking Ivorro had affected his neck, made him mute—

Right. He remembered. He was trying to save a boy, and then the Ivorros attacked him, pressing him down under the water of the fountain, clawing his back, gripping his wrists and legs so tight that even then he could not twist them a bit, afraid that it just made the pain worsen, and then he was—

Dead. or alive. On this bed. Next to a beautiful stranger.

Maybe his face was frustrated or something, because the stranger gave him a worried look, as if he thought he had offended him unintentionally. “You okay there?”

Seungcheol just blinked at the boy, coughing a little in order to find his voice back. Eventually, he could talk again, his voice was so raspy that at once, he had thought it was not his but someone else’s. “Um. Fine.”

There was relief in the boy’s eyes, and Seungcheol could see his muscles slowly stretched. Was talking to him that stressful, could make his muscles tense up all over? “Thanks God, I was so worried about you. You had been in coma for three days straight, and I used to think maybe you had di—”

Seungcheol raised a hand, and the boy immediately stopped talking. Really, at that moment, he did not want to hear that word, the word he had thought constantly back in the fountain. Listening to it again just made him feel like drowning in the water again, and suffocating was not exactly what he wanted right then. “Where am I?” He asked, wincing as he felt his larynx hurt a little. “What happened?”

The stranger licked his lips nervously, as if he was considering whether to stayed silent, or telling him the whole story. He let out a breath, blinking his eyes quickly, and he pulled himself back against the chair next to Seungcheol’s bed. “Um, I’m not sure if you remember or not, but I am the boy who hid in the fountain.” He introduced himself, smiling sheepishly, a bit guiltily, like he blamed himself for making Seungcheol like this. “This is my private room. I’m Hong Jisoo by the way. Nice to meet you.”

Oh. _Oh_.

Seungcheol let out a heavy breath.

So he—Jisoo—was the boy that Seungcheol failed to protect back in the fountain three days ago, according to Jisoo. To be honest, he had concentrated on the Ivorro only, that he did not even look at the boy properly to see his face. And instead of Seungcheol saving Jisoo, it was Jisoo saving Seungcheol. Maybe. He guessed so. If not, then why did he end up at Jisoo’s place, not his base?

Jisoo continued talking. “So after you fell in the water with the creature—I don’t know its name, sorry—”

“Ivorro.” Seungcheol wearily corrected.

“Right, Ivorro.” Jisoo nodded, his shoulder dropped, like Seungcheol’s gloominess affected his mood too. “So, yeah, the other Ivorros came too, they clawed your costume, they held you tight so that you could not breathe, they wanted to drown you, and they did not notice me. I was so scared, could not think right, but I had to save you, and myself either; so I grabbed the gun on your belt, and I shot them down.” He scratched his hair roughly, making his hair messy all over. “I was nervous, and I had thought of running away from the square as far as possible, but you were there—you had transformed back to the human form because you were seriously injured, and I just could not leave you alone.” Jisoo clasped his hands, putting them on his lap and pausing for a while, like he did not know how to continue the story. “I shot the Ivorros down, and I was afraid that if I just let you lie there, you could have died. If your teammates knew about this, the mission wouldn’t be completed. They were busy fighting with the Ivorros, and I didn’t want to disturb them… so I, well,” He blushed, like a child being caught up. “I dragged you to where I parked my motorbike. And I rode you to my house. Taking care of you, though I’m sort of bad at basic first aiding. I don’t know how to contact your friends, they did not come back to the square either, so I just let you stay at my house for three days, up to now.”

Now that it was Seungcheol’s turn to feel guilty. Fuck, why hadn’t he thought about his friends? His _brothers_? It had been three days already, they must have been in panic for his sudden disappearance. But looking at his condition right then—he even could not move a _finger_ without feeling pain shooting through his nerves. Seungcheol was damn sure that he would not leave this bed for, maybe a week or so. Hope his unusual strength would help him to get through this pain faster than normal, so that he could come back to the base, telling the whole world that he was fucking okay, that he was still the leader, the Red Ranger of the Team.

Jisoo, on the other hand, did not seem to know what was going on in Seungcheol’s mind. After a minute or two, seeing Seungcheol did not reply, the boy smiled again, there was encouragement in his tone. “You will be okay, Red Ranger. You are absolutely safe here.”

The warmth of Jisoo’s words made Seungcheol shiver slightly, and he sighed in respond. “Don’t call me Red Ranger. It doesn’t feel like me.”

“But you are.” Jisoo countered. He took the cloth on Seungcheol’s forehead, immersing it in a small water tub on the nightstand, wringing it before putting it on Seungcheol again. “And you don’t tell me your name anyway. What should I call you then?”

Seungcheol sighed. The boy knew he was the Red Ranger anyway. Telling him his name was harmless, right? “Seungcheol.” He replied slowly, ignoring the headache starting to grow in his brain. “My name is Seungcheol.”

For a moment, Jisoo was silent. “Seungcheol.” He said, as if he was testing the name on his lips, as if he was unsure how to speak it right. “Seungcheol.” He said again, but then he smiled. “I like your name.”

“Thanks.” Seungcheol had to bite his lips to prevent himself from chuckling. Damn, the boy was so cute. He could not even believe this Jisoo was also the one that had taken his gun and knocked a bunch of Ivorros down and rode a motorbike and drove Seungcheol to his home and saved him from dying. That was unbelievable. But then, he was a Ranger. A typical example of unbelievable—things. What could he expect?

“Alright.” Jisoo stood up, pulling out from his jeans pocket an iPod. He turned on some Tupac’s tunes, put the device on the table, then came back to the edge of the bed and fondling Seungcheol’s hair, a smile tucked on his lips. “You should rest. I will come downstairs to find some food, okay?” He said as he grabbed the doorknob, seeming hesitant, but then he continued. “After your wounds have healed up, you can come back to your friends. Don’t worry about that.”

And before Seungcheol could say anything, Jisoo had left the room, closing the door so gently that he could not even hear the sound of it colliding with the jambs.

He just wanted to say that he did not want to leave this place. Ever.

 

—

 

“You like Tupac?” Seungcheol asked.

Jisoo, sitting at the edge of the bed, had to stop eating the burger to give Seungcheol a look. He looked unreadable, or Seungcheol was damn clueless about the boy. He was bad at reading people, he knew, but with Jisoo, he felt like there was always a fog around him, preventing Seungcheol from getting closer to him, and reading everything behind those shy smiles and soft touches.

He had been staying at Jisoo’s house for a week, getting used with this bed, with Jisoo sleeping on the couch across the room, with Jisoo bringing healthy food to help him to recover faster, with Jisoo doing _everything_. Jisoo treated Seungcheol as if he was a damsel, vulnerable and all, which he would be surely pissed of if it was anyone else. But it was Jisoo, and instead of being grumpy about the pain, about staying on bed all day, about being taken care of, Seungcheol found himself just dumbly smiling back whenever Jisoo came to sit next to him and checked his injuries.

He had no idea what was going on with him anymore.

“Yes.” Was Jisoo’s reply. “He was a good rapper, isn’t it? I have all of his songs, but To live and die in L.A. is still my most favorite. I used to live in Los Angeles, you know. I’m damn sympathetic with the song. I always get nostalgic whenever I hear it.” He hummed to the song’s lyrics quietly for a while, and then came back to reality again. “You like him?”

“A bit.” Seungcheol admitted. “I used to hear him a lot.”

“Used to? What happened then?” Jisoo wondered.

Seungcheol shrugged. “I became a Ranger. Which means I am busy all the time, fighting crimes and saving people and all. I even don’t have time to buy an iPod. We go here and there, wiping the Ivorros off the face of the Earth. But for Soonyoung, I would never know who is SNSD.”

“Soonyoung?” Jisoo repeated the name, a curious look sparkled in his eyes. “How many people are there in your team?”

“It used to be five.” Seungcheol answered bitterly. Memories of Haneul came back to him, together with the pain, they blended, they dyed his mind black. Jisoo still patiently waited for him, the burger was still held in his hands in one piece. “Me, Junhui, Soonyoung, Mingyu, and Haneul.” His heart still hurt whenever he mentioned her name, as if it was poisonous, a malicious tumor grew inside his heart, slowly rotting his heart away. “I am the Red Ranger. Junhui is the Green Ranger, Mingyu is Blue, Soonyoung is Yellow, and Haneul’s Pink. But in our last mission, she had passed away.”

Something squeezed his left hand as he completed saying. Jisoo had left the burger on the nightstand, reaching out his own hand to hold Seungcheol’s injured hand tightly, like he was afraid that Seungcheol would be drowned in those past miserable memories, isolated himself from reality. Or he just wanted to calm Seungcheol down. “It’s alright.” Jisoo told him gently. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“No, I’m fine.” Seungcheol sighed. “Just… it was fucking terrible. We are all trying to get over her death, but she just lingered. In everything we do. We even have to shut off the Zords because they can’t unite as one since the owner of the Pink Puma was gone. We were all fucked up.”

“No, you’re not.” Jisoo protested. “I don’t know about you guys much; but how can lads fighting the evil and saving the whole city fuck up? You guys are everyone’s heroes, man,” _Heroes_. Seungcheol wanted to laugh; just how long was it since anyone called him _that_? “The city would fall if it weren’t for you guys. My friends at school always babble on you Power Rangers, saying that you guys are the best thing ever happened to the city. Just because one of you had gone doesn’t mean you don’t deserve people’s admiration, Seungcheol.” Seungcheol winced at that, but Jisoo brushed it off by squeezing his hand tighter. “Come on, dude.”

“Because you don’t know about us, you don’t know the whole thing, Jisoo.” Seungcheol shook his head tiredly, and he decided to tell Jisoo anyway. The malaise that had been haunting him after the demise of the Pink Ranger, that never let him sleep properly without waking up during one A.M., sweating all over because of some nightmares in which memories from that day kept repeating over and over again. “What if I were the one to kill her? What if I were the culprit of her death, Jisoo?”

As expected, Jisoo was taken back, a shocked expression on his face. His widened eyes blinked at Seungcheol, like he was not on the same planet anymore.

Seungcheol simpered. He was quivering, and his head hurt, his torso hurt, everything hurt like it had never done before. “I killed her. We had rescued all the hostages out of the manor before Gordon set it on fire. But then… I heard whimpers in the house. I thought we had omitted someone, and I decided to come back into the house. Despite the fire. How stupid I was, because Haneul—she fucking _followed_ me. I was meant to be the one who died, not her. And she twisted that fate, she pulled me out of the house before it exploded, and she was burnt out alive right in front of my eyes—”

“Seungcheol—”

But Seungcheol just cut him off by carrying on rambling. “That was what I did. I was an idiot, and Haneul should not have been the one who paid the price of my foolishness. It should be _me_ getting burned, not her—and everything is not the same anymore. Everyone was damn cautious when it comes to me, as if they were afraid I could break into a million pieces. We lock Haneul’s room, we hide her Morpher, deactivating her Zord, everything, just to block her out of our path. But she’s still _there_.” He did not notice earlier, that Jisoo’s hair today was brushed off his forehead. And he still looked gorgeous Seungcheol just felt more ached, and he did not know why he reacted so. “She was there when Soonyoung reached out his hand. She was there when Mingyu had no idea what to do with his gun. She was there when Junhui had no one to talk about martial arts. She was there when Jeonghan upgraded our gadgets all by himself.” No, he did not cry, ever since Haneul’s death. He just felt hollow, as if someone had taken a part inside him away. And that someone was Haneul. Down to Hell. “She was there when I was drowning, before you clicked the gun. Made me ask myself was burning out alive similar to this—sinking in the water, having no way out, and your life just slowly drained out of your body—”

A finger was brought to put on Seungcheol’s lips, signalling him to say no more. He stopped instantly as Jisoo glared at him, his eyes glancing at his lips for a brief moment before looking directly at Seungcheol’s eyes. His face was damn close to Seungcheol’s, and Seungcheol had no idea since when Jisoo had closed the distance between them, so damn near that Seungcheol could count his eyelashes. They said nothing, just looking at each other, ignoring time passing outside the room, feeling everything kept flowing, except the two of them kept staying still. Jisoo’s finger still pressed on Seungcheol’s lips, and Seungcheol felt suffocated.

It was not like when the Ivorros tried to drown him, no, it was like flying to cloud nine, where the air was diluted, making it hard to breathe. Jisoo’s one finger on his lips felt like thousand of Ivorros’ hands squeezing his neck.

Really, Jisoo could kill him without a sword.

“I had clicked the gun.” Jisoo said, his dropped voice made Seungcheol shiver. “Don’t you dare say such. It was not your fault. You just could not let her go. But soon, the wound will heal. This ain’t TV shows or media shits.” He was used to Jisoo swearing, but just seeing those pinky lips cursing still did not feel right. Jisoo was so contradictory to his looking, all sweet and gentle outside, but seeming chaotic and intimidating inside. “Eventually, you will have to move on despite your feelings. The world doesn’t allow you to sit still. Don’t just sit here and mope around something you fucking know that wasn’t your fault. You’re a fucking Ranger. You fought millions of Ivorros.” His lips curved into a smirk, like he was challenging Seungcheol to say otherwise. “It’s time you fought your own self.”

Seungcheol let out a breathless laugh. “I’ve been fighting against it all the time. There’s always a war in my mind.”

“Then don’t be a loser.” Jisoo replied. He pressed his body on top of Seungcheol’s, still keeping their distance close. Seungcheol was so damn sure his face was as red as a tomato then. “You have survived man. Ivorros, Monsters, the accident in the fountain, the house on fire, and you’re gonna survive through this battle too. People care about you. I’m sure your brothers must love you, and I’m here supporting you no matter what.”

“You’ve just known me for a week.”

“A week could change a relationship, I tell you.” Jisoo laughed. “Especially when you just sprawl on my bed for days.”

And just—fuck—fuck Hong Jisoo, fuck his charming smile, fuck his polite words, fuck his rough-and-soft-at-the-same-time attitude, fuck _everything_ about him that made Seungcheol want to climb out of his misery well, and hugged the boy tight and never let him go.

 

—

 

“Come on.” Jisoo urged. “You can do it.”

One more week passed, and Seungcheol finally could sit up properly, with a dull ache still lingered in his back. Just like he had expected, his back was full of fading red scars, like he had been clawed by a tiger. It was Jisoo who stayed up late just to check his bandages, washing them clean before changing the bandages. The boy practically did everything. Jisoo said he was bad at first aiding, but the way he did to Seungcheol’s injuries, so cautious, so slow, made he think the boy was the best doctor ever on Earth. Fourteen days living with Jisoo were honestly relaxing; they watched TV and ate popcorns together, they rambled about themselves restlessly, they shared some shitty childhood memories, they did everything to—fucking—gether.

During those conversations, Seungcheol had the chance to know more about Jisoo. That he was the same age as Seungcheol, that he was a third—year in the local university, currently in Music major, and he could play guitar well. That he was exactly like what Seungcheol had thought earlier when he first saw the boy, that Jisoo was that type of boys in schools, all gentle and excellent, a perfect ideal man for every girl in this world. Still, he would deny it whenever he thought about him and Jisoo being together, because, well. Hong Jisoo was damn straight. He did not say that out loud, but Seungcheol was absolutely sure he was. He had that elegant manner of a kid whom had been educated well and would grow up a gentleman, had a proper and happy family, not being together with a Red Ranger and having a shitty love story like Twilight or whatever.

Somehow that annoyed Seungcheol. And for the he—lost—count time, he had to restrain it, preventing himself from spilling all out, right in front of Jisoo, like a silly schoolgirl being confused about her crush. No. He was more mature than that. He would know what to do.

“You think?” He asked back quietly, but stayed still on the edge of the bed. Jisoo was standing in front of him, his hands were on either sides of his waist, an unsatisfied noise came out of his lips. Which just made Seungcheol more frustrate.

“Yes!” Jisoo said, a bit louder than usual. “Just do it. You will be fine man. If you fall, I will be there to catch you.”

To be honest, Seungcheol preferred lying on the bed next to Jisoo, watching Batman than trying to stand properly like this. But Jisoo had reasoned that he could not stay like that forever, that he had to move to stretch his limbs, and Jisoo’s “you are not paralysed, damn it Seungcheol” just irritated him as fuck. So here he was, sitting at the end of the bed, trying to stand up, and he was so sure that the pain would not let him go. It would stay in his body for five more centuries.

But Seungcheol got up slowly. His hips left the soft surface of the bed as he tried his best to straighten his back without pulling a face. And it _hurt_ —it was like fireworks exploding in his ribs, his legs, his bones, everywhere, his heart raced so fast he could not hold his breath well anymore, but he threw an arm to prevent Jisoo from catching him; he was a Ranger. He could do this. Gritting his teeth, his arm left the bed’s frame, and he heard Jisoo hissing with an amused tone. Pains were like flowers, blooming beneath his skin, along with his veins, his ribcages, but then he sucked in a deep breath, and started walking towards a bewildered, but impressed Jisoo. The boy grinned as he patted Seungcheol’s shoulder slightly.

“Welcome back, man.” He whispered. And Seungcheol laughed at that.

“You acted like I have awaken from an eternal sleep.”

“Well, you have risen up from an eternal rest on my bed.” Jisoo pointed out. “and you are just stealing the words from _Game of Thrones_.”

Seungcheol shook his head in surrender. “You are talking nonsense again.” He walked slowly towards the door, opening it a bit and looked out at the doorway. There was a stair, a big one, maybe leading to the living room and the dining room. He looked back at Jisoo, a smiled slowly made it way on his lips. “Here’s the game: who ran down the stairs first can have a nice meal cooked by the loser.”

And with that, he opened the door widely, running out, heading towards the stairs, ignoring—yet laughing out loud—Jisoo’s words behind. “What? Oh no, come back here, you fucking _cheater_ —”

 

— 

 

On a sunny Tuesday, three days later since Seungcheol could finally walk on his own, he decided to go back to his base. Jisoo insisted on giving him a ride back to the base, saying that Seungcheol’s legs were still sore, and he could not make constant moves because his legs were not strong enough to support his body, and Seungcheol just surrendered to him once again. He had asked Jisoo to ride the motorbike, but Jisoo brushed it off immediately (“There’s no way,” he hissed. “I’m gonna let a stranger, a _sore_ stranger touch my baby.”). As a result, he had to sit behind Jisoo, whimpering about he never riding a motorbike ever before, also silently asking himself how could Jisoo bring him back to his home when he fainted.

“You ride the Cycle all the time, man.” Jisoo pouted at Seungcheol before putting his helmet on. “The whole city knows about that.”

“Yeah well, it’s not a proper motorbike.”

“It’s a motorbike with vivid colors. Now shut up, tell me the way to your base and let me drive you home.”

“No, I’m not gonna give you the address.” Seungcheol shook his head. Jisoo’s half—covered face frowned. “It was our rules, sorry. No one can know about where we live, except us only. Just drop me at Area Six, I could call my friends to come pick me up later.”

“Well… okay.” Jisoo nodded. He looked less excited, but he kept smiling politely. “Put the helmet on, we will be there within minutes.”

Area Six was a crowded place, definitely not Seungcheol’s style. Heaving flows of people and bright neon lights were things that he had tried to avoid all his life, claming that they made him overwhelmed, dizzy. And in the end he became the guardian of those. It was funny, how they passed and ignored him every single day, not even looked at his face or paid attention to his existence, yet they worshipped the Power Rangers as if the team was the Batman of this city. And they did not know they had passed one of them. He sat behind Jisoo, listening to the fainted, yet chaotic voices mixing around him, and the roar of the engine as the beat, they flew altogether in his head like those electronic dance songs Soonyoung was keen on. The bass hammered his mind heavily, each hit got harder and harder, made him stop for a moment to collect himself again, realizing that he was still sitting behind Jisoo, the boy’s back was like a citadel defending Seungcheol from the strong wind, the muttering sounds falling, the traffic lights, the people, the _everything_.

They arrived at Area Six within Jisoo’s expectation, barely five minutes. He stopped at a telephone booth, a crimson red one, and without a word, Seungcheol climbed off the motorbike. He gave the vehicle another admiring look before sighing and locked himself in the call box, wondering whether Jisoo was still there after he ended the call, or not.

He would prefer the first one. Seungcheol did not give Jisoo any information about him much. His base, his contact, his private flat address, nothing. Jisoo only knew his name, his Power Ranger stuff, and his music taste. That somehow made Seungcheol guilty, for being quite unfair to the boy. Although he did not seem to mind much about that, but Seungcheol recalled that one time he told Seungcheol that how a week could change a whole relationship. And seriously, he never wanted their bond to be ended like this. Tearing apart, and never seeing each other again.

Letting out a shaky breath, he started to press the button, the fading sound from outside echoing into his ear weakly, like the whole world had grown dim—he wished so. He wished it so much it never came true. Hilarious, Seungcheol’s life.

The line was silent for a moment, and then there was a familiar voice. A young, yet low one—Mingyu. For no doubt. Hearing it made Seungcheol feel surprisingly relieved; like a swollen baloon finally was deflated. “Hello?”

“Mingyu.” The name went smoothly out of his larynx. “It’s me. Seungcheol.”

Silence again. He could imagine Mingyu’s boring face on the other line, and then turned to a shocked one as he mentioned his name. Seungcheol was not surprised, since he would do the same if he was Mingyu. Like, how could he not be stunned when his teammate was missing, and then suddenly there was a strange phone call, turning out it was that teammate who made the call? He bit his lips, not sure if he should continue to talk or not, and Mingyu still did not say anything. Was the younger boy still in shock? Or something had happened to him—

“Seungcheol?” But Mingyu had talked again, which destroyed all of his rubbish thoughts completely. “You are that _Seungcheol_?”

Yes, his thoughts were absolutely rubbish. “Yeah, I’m _that_ Seungcheol.” He groaned, silently cursing Mingyu and his insecurity or OCD or whatever about them being forged and that still annoyed him like hell.

Of course Mingyu was skeptical. “Tell me the name of the song that Soonyoung had pissed Seungcheol off with at six A.M.”

Seungcheol rolled his eyes. Really, he had considered hanging up and coming back to Jisoo’s house, quitting his Power Ranger stuff and never seeing his brothers ever again. But that did not seem like him, so he replied. “I got a boy, damn it, Mingyu, I swear—”

“Seungcheol? Is that really you?” Mingyu interrupted him immediately, so fast that Seungcheol stopped promptly. And he felt a bit guilty again. “Where have you been man? We were dead worried about you! You were there at the square with us, and minutes later you were fucking _gone_. Did you know that Junhui had almost cried when he found out that you had disappeared? We even thought the Ivorros had captured you—”

“I know, Mingyu, I know. I’m sorry.” Seungcheol replied wearily; the red bracelet on his wrist suddenly felt tighter than ever. “I should have kept in touch with you guys. But I was unconscious for three days straight, and I was injured, so it was kinda hard to call you.”

“You were _what_?” Mingyu asked with a perplexed tone.

“I was—nevermind.” Seungcheol sighed. Figuring out this was not the right time to spill out all of his past weeks, he gave Mingyu a short respond. “It’s a long story. My bad anyway, sorry.”

“Yeah, it’s your bad. Jeonghan will definitely kill you when you go back home.” He heard Mingyu huffing. “You’d better have a right reason for having evaporated for _weeks._ Where are you anyway? Do you need a ride?”

“I’m at Area Six, near the telephone booth, you can see me when reaching the Big Lane.”

“We’ll be there soon.” Mingyu promised, and as he hung up the call without saying goodbye, Seongcheol heard his last words over the phone line. “Hey everyone! Seungcheol is not dead, give me a treat now Soonyoung!” And Seungcheol did not know whether he should groan, or smile. His brothers bet on his death, and Soonyoung bet that he had been dead already. He was going to give Soonyoung a punch later, when they had reached home.

He spotted Jisoo right away when he got out of the booth. The boy was still sitting motionlessly on the seat of the motorbike, looking at the call box curiously, like he was wondering what Seungcheol had talked about. Or who he had talked to.

“Oh, you’ve done?” Jisoo asked as he saw Seungcheol walking towards him. His hands were on his lap, brushing the fingers together softly, his lips curved into a small smile. A sad one. “Your friends are coming then?”

“Um. Yeah.” Seungcheol nodded, feeling awkward at once. They kept staring at each other, did not say a word, the noisy world staying out of their own orbit like a meaningless obstacle. Mamihlapinatapai was practiced from eyes to eyes, and it seemed to be never enough. Like Seungcheol had a thousand words to say, and Jisoo had millions of thoughts to express. And yet, they chose silence. Time was passing underneath their feet. Seungcheol kept standing, Jisoo kept sitting on his motorbike, and the world kept running. It was like a race—people all ran as fast as they could, and yet here they were, Seungcheol and Jisoo, accepting to be losers just to be by each other’s side.

And it was alright. Fucking alright to Seungcheol. He was not a winner all his life anyway. And the truth was, he had not noticed or realized sooner, that he did not need those vociferations of victory building a crown for him; he just needed those black warm eyes, brown wavy hair with fringe pushed off the forehead, and curved lips smiling softly, for him only. It was a gentle, yet chaotic, _yet_ silent Hong Jisoo.

Finally, it was Jisoo who started to talk again. “You should go.” His smile faded, as if he was saying goodbye to a soldier getting ready to die at anytime in the battlefield, rather than a Red Ranger coming back to where he belonged to. “See you soon, Seungcheol.”

Seungcheol nodded wearily, suddenly felt so weak, like he had been on a roller coaster, his brain and his lungs have replaced each other inside him. Jisoo did not say a word, or left; they stayed still until forever passed and Seungcheol heard someone yell his name in the blurred background—it had always been blurred, the background. When it came to Jisoo. Seungcheol had no idea why.

Seungcheol did not even need to turn back to know it was Mingyu. But for a moment, he wondered if he really wanted Mingyu to come, or not. That meaned Jisoo would have to leave, and they could not see each other until some other time, one of these days. And by predicting the saving-lives-because-you-are-a-Power-Ranger thing in the future, surely he would not have enough free time to see Jisoo.

And Seungcheol never wanted to risk the boy’s life. Like he had with Haneul. It was sickening, thinking back about the girl, and the memory still stayed inside his mind, never really leaving. It appeared everywhere: when he daydreamed, when he was attacked by the Ivorros, when he stayed with Jisoo, _everywhere_. Physically, he could heal. Fast, per se. But emotionally? He was just in cul—de—sac. There was no way out in that circle of despair. It could be soothed, yes, but could never be eliminated. Existing like a fucking bacteria, silently eating him alive, those memories accused Seungcheol of killing one of his best teammates, his _friend_ , his sister, and Jisoo was not enough. _Never enough_.

But he could, at least, calm Seungcheol down. With his soft voice, his gentle fingers, his everything. Like he had done to Seungcheol in the last weeks, and Seungcheol just did not realise how he got happier by just thinking about that. About Hong Jisoo.

“Can I see you again?” Finally, he asked quietly. Jisoo raised his eyebrow in surprise, but it fell immediately. “Some day?”

“Some day.” Jisoo repeated the words, as if he had forgotten the meaning of them and slowly tried to remember. “Um, yeah, I guess? You know my address, right? You can drop by at any time.”

Seungcheol found himself grinning dumbly at that, and Jisoo smirked in response; there was no malice in his curving lips, just pure mischief. As he turned back to his vehicle, putting the helmet on, he gave Seungcheol one last glance, and Seungcheol knew. He nodded back in understanding, and Jisoo must have known that too.

Because goodbyes were that hard to say to them, and this? This was never meant to be goodbye.

 

 

(tbc) 


End file.
